Reminder
by CailenBraern
Summary: A short thing I wrote during college today. Roger reflects on his morning routine. My first Rent fic, be kind. MarkRoger if you squint.


"Take your AZT."

And that was that. Just like any other morning, (afternoon, Roger checked himself) Mark would brightly bid him good morning before that trace of worry crept in and he dispensed his daily reminder.

"Right," Roger replied automatically. He left the 'kitchen' and disappeared into the bathroom. Roger closed the door but left it unlocked. Neither locked it anymore. Not since April. Not since his own muddled attempt to take his life during the nightmare that was withdrawal. Too many accidents could happen in that small, cramped room, and Roger wasn't ready to leave Mark yet.

Tired eyes stared back at him from the mirror above the sink. Pale skin clung tight to bones. Cheeks hollowed and cheekbones sharpened. The ghostly spectre of death stared back at him. Just as it did every morning.

_His daily reminder._

Pointlessly sighing, he opened the cabinet and removed the small bottle without even checking which one it was. He screwed the lid off, shaking his dose into the palm of his hand. He popped the dose in his mouth and filled the glass on the sink with water. He took the first swallow, almost gagging when he feels the drugs lodging in his throat. The water is insufficient to wash it down, just like every morning. He took a second and then a third drink of water before the medicine goes down.

_A daily reminder._

He restored the pill bottle and the glass back to their rightful places. He studied his ghostly reflection once again. Eyes that were once blazing torches now flickered like candles, ready to blow out in the smallest of gusts.

_A daily reminder._

He remained that way, immobile as the minutes ticked by. Waiting.

All too soon he felt the familiar churning in his stomach, tasted the sour, sharp bile that swam up his throat causing him to choke.

He gripped the sides of the sink, his knuckles turning pink against his white skin and held tight as his empty stomach emptied.

Once the heaving had subsided, he remained hunched over, slim hands clutching tight against the sides. He shook, only slightly. An outside observer would barely notice it, but Roger could feel it. Could feel the tremors spreading through his body.

_Like a disease. His reminder._

He felt a soothing, comforting touch. Palm flat, fingers outstretched, a hand making wide, slow circular motions. Fingertips gently massaging through the thin, white vest.

The churning started again, and he braced himself for the next round. The second bout was always the worst. It lasted longer, and always seemed more violent.

A second hand ran through his hair, unnecessarily trying to keep it from falling in his eyes or in front of his mouth. His hair was cut short, still spiked by the gel that had dried and hardened from the day before. Still it was an unspoken rule, an unplanned schedule.

After a while, ten, fifteen minutes, maybe more Roger slowly straightened and leant back into Mark's chest. The hand that was rummaging through his hair fell and rested on his shoulder, gently squeezing. The hand on his back snaked round his waist and pulled him closer.

"Feel better?"

"The side effects are getting worse, Mark."

"Tell them that at your next appointment. It's only an experimental drug, you know that."

"They're all like this. Every single variation I've tried. They're useless. They're supposed to make me feel better, but they make me feel worse. Make me feel like I'm dying. Like…like…

…_a reminder._

"What's the alternative? Roger, if you don't take the medication you're going to get weak, then you're going to get sick and then you're going to di…to leave me. And I'm not ready to lose you."

Roger turned around and looked at Mark. Looked into those eyes that looked as cold as ice. Eyes that you'd expect to gaze into and be chilled right down to the bone but you weren't. Roger always felt warm whenever those eyes stared at him, so full of longing and need. Those eyes, that reminded him that there was someone that loved him, and needed him desperately.

And Roger knew he'd put up with the changing medication, the side effects, the vomiting, the shaking, the shivering, the dizzy spells and the sweating, knew he'd put up with all of it, because it only reminded him that he would get the chance to spend one more day with his Mark.


End file.
